Watching
by Halcris
Summary: Two incidents that start in a similar way but end ver differently


**Watching.**

 **Doyle sank** into his armchair, carefully balancing his mug of coffee. It had been a long and tiring day, less successful than they had hoped, and he was glad to be back in his flat. He'd managed a quick light meal, and was now looking forward to a relaxing evening with his favourite music, and an early night.

But his peace was suddenly shattered as his telephone rang. With strong misgivings, he rose to answer it. So few people knew his number that it was bound to be important. Surely we're not going to be called out again tonight !

But considerably to his relief, the voice on the phone was the familiar one of his work-mate, Bodie. They had only parted company less than an hour ago.

"What's up ?," he asked anxiously, thinking it might still be an emergency, and his mate had been called first.

"No panic," replied Bodie re-assuringly, and Doyle relaxed. "My driving gloves, the ones with the crochet bits ?"

"Yes, I remember," said Doyle. "What about them?."

"I can't find them," replied Bodie, "and I wondered if I'd left them at your place ?."

"No mate, I haven't seen them," responded Doyle, "When did you have them last ?."

"Tuesday, I think," replied his friend, "I thought they were in the glove compartment, but they're not there."

"Did you lock it ?,"asked Doyle.

"I think so. I usually do," said Bodie.

"Sorry, I can't help you," said Doyle.

"O.K. thanks anyway," said his friend, "Good-night. Sleep tight."

The subject wasn't mentioned again, and Doyle assumed he'd found them.

But a few days later, after a fairly reasonable day, of awkward checks and enquiries, Doyle realised that, although working perfectly well, his partner had been a bit subdued all day.

Knowing Bodie as he did, he knew his mate had something on his mind. But he'd learnt from experience not to ask, but just to stay quiet about his concern. Bodie would tell him when he was ready, if he wanted to.

So he wasn't really surprised at what happened as they finished for the day, and were walking down the stairs together towards the yard and their cars. Bodie put a hand on his arm, and, out of earshot of the others, said quietly "Ray, can I talk to you about something ?."

"Of course," responded Doyle instantly, "Let's go and sit in my car."

But even when they were settled in the privacy of the car, Bodie was still edgy and unforthcoming. Doyle kept quiet and waited patiently.

"It's a bit awkward," Bodie began hesitantly. Then he steeled himself to get on with it. "Ray, I think I'm being watched, not at work, but when I go home."

This roused Doyle and he responded at once. "You know what the boss's rules are on that," he said. "If we suspect we're being followed or watched, we report it at once, and he puts someone on straight away to check."

"Yes, I know," replied Bodie, "and I promise I'll do it if I'm wrong, but the thing is. I think I know who it is."

"Well, go on," said Doyle.

"It's awkward," continued Bodie uneasily, "I think it's a youngster I talk to occasionally. Her name's Jenny. She works Saturdays, and some evenings in her father's newsagents shop just round the corner from my place."

"She ?," queried Doyle.

"Yes," said Bodie looking very embarrassed, "She's just a school-girl."

Now Doyle saw his partner's problem. His mate was the unwilling victim of a 'school-girl crush' !

No wonder he didn't want to report it. If it came out, his fellow agents would tease Bodie unmercifully !

Having made a start, Bodie went on. "I think she might have my gloves too." he said, "I remember putting them down on the counter while I counted out some change. I might have forgotten to pick them up."

Well that would fit the pattern, thought Doyle. The youngster hiding away the gloves and gloating over them in secret.

"I can see your problem," he said slowly.

"Her dad's a nice man," went on Bodie, "Works very hard to keep his little business going. He dotes on his daughter, of course. He's brought her up alone since she was eight, and he's done a good job. She's clever at school, and very polite and helpful with the customers."

"He's probably like lots of 'doting dads'," said Doyle, "Reluctant to accept that his 'little girl' is growing up."

"That's it," agreed Bodie. "If he finds out about this he's liable to clamp down hard and 'ground' her, and that would cause rows and rebellion."

"I'm not sure how you think I can help," said Doyle thoughtfully.

"Well firstly," said his mate, "You could confirm for me that it is her."

"How ?," asked Doyle.

"You know how difficult parking is round my area. I often have to park a little way away and walk back to my door. Well, for the last four nights, every time I've found a likely space, I've become aware of someone lurking near to it. Then the figure fades into the shadows but follows me at a distance till I reach my door."

"Odd," commented Doyle.

"I wondered if you might get there before me, and watch to see if it happens again."

Doyle caught onto the idea quickly. "Then if I see someone following you, I could follow and see if she goes back to the shop,"

"Yes," said his friend. "You could get close enough to see if it was her, and then I'd know for sure."

"Sounds reasonable," said Doyle thoughtfully. "Do you want to try it out tonight ?"

"Would you ?," asked Bodie and Doyle nodded.

Bodie went off to his own car, and Doyle set off. As it was late in the year it was already dark as he reached the area near his partner's flat. As Bodie had said, parking was difficult, but he spotted a likely space and pulled into it.

He was immediately aware that there had been a figure lurking near the space, a figure that had shrunk into the shadows as he moved in.

He took his time getting out of the car, and saw the figure slip away, moving along the pavement towards the next convenient space.

He locked his car door, and began to walk along the road. He disappeared into the first dark doorway he came to and waited.

A few minutes later, he saw lights as a car came round the corner, and watched as Bodie eased his car into the next available space. He watched him climb out, and walk away towards the entrance to his block of flats.

And, sure enough, a figure followed him, a slight figure in an anorak with the hood pulled up. At this distance Doyle couldn't be sure it was a girl. It could just as easily have been a youth.

He kept a good distance till he saw Bodie go into his doorway, then slightly quickened his pace as the figure stood for a moment just looking at the door, and then moved away.

As the figure seemed to be going in the direction of the shop, he decided to take a chance. He ducked down an alley, raced round the block, and contrived to be walking towards the shop from the other end of the street.. To his relief, he saw his quarry approaching from the other direction.

They met in the doorway, almost colliding. Doyle held the door, and let the smaller figure go in first. As she did so, she pushed back the hood of her anorak, and he could see it was a girl, a very pretty girl with short curly ginger hair, and a fair sprinkling of freckles, but oh_ so young _ so very young !

She greeted her father, and went through to the back to hang up her coat, before returning behind the counter, ready to serve customers.

Doyle bought a paper and went straight round to Bodie's flat and was admitted.

"You 'cradle-snatcher'," he teased his mate as he walked into the lounge.

"Not my fault. I didn't encourage her," protested Bodie, "but you can see my problem."

He quickly produced two coffees, and the pair sat down to try and think of a way out of it.

"Any ideas ?," asked Bodie

"Just don't go in the shop any more," suggested Doyle.

"But that won't stop her waiting about for me to come home, will it ?. She knows where I live," replied his friend.

He gazed at his partner speculatively. "I did have one thought," he said tentatively, "But I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me," ordered Doyle.

"Well, we could go into the shop together when we're sure she's there," he began, "I could introduce you as my 'partner' and hope she thinks…."

"Badly of both of us !," interrupted Doyle. He pulled a disapproving face. "It might work," he said grudgingly. "It wouldn't bother me, as I don't live around here, but what about your reputation ? Some people are still very funny about that situation."

"The people in the flats are used to seeing me with girls," replied Bodie. "And anyway they are all good at minding their own business."

"I'll think about it," said Doyle, and left for his own flat. He wasn't very keen on the idea, as he considered how upset the girl might be.

But a couple of days later, Bodie cornered him ion the locker-room when nobody else was about. "We've got to do it, Ray," he pleaded. "I found these stuck on the car this morning," and he showed Doyle two large red hearts, cut from a Valentine card.

That decided Doyle. Though he wasn't too keen on the method, this had to be stopped before it went any further. "All right," he said, "We'll do it."

"Next Saturday morning, when she's in the shop," suggested Bodie. "We'll fit it in somehow whatever we are on."

There was only one customer, a lady looking at birthday cards, when the pair strolled into the little newsagents shop. Both the girl and her father were behind the counter ready to serve, as Saturdays were usually quite busy.

Bodie had his arm round Doyle's shoulder, and was beaming fondly at him. Don't overdo it, thought Doyle to himself.

"Hi," said Bodie cheerfully. "Can I introduce Ray Doyle, my partner," he said, with just the right emphasis on the word 'partner'.

Doyle winced inwardly as he saw the stricken look come over the girl's face. She had picked up the inference as Bodie had intended, and her dreams and fantasies were suddenly blown away.

Poor kid, thought Doyle, but better now than later !

Bodie bought a newspaper and a box of chocolates, which he handed rather ostentatiously to Doyle, and then they left, going back to continue the enquiries they were supposed to be on.

As they climbed back into the car, Bodie took the chocolate box from Doyle's hand, and put it on the back seat.

"Hey, are you 'dumping' me already ?," teased Doyle, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Bodie pulled a face at him.

"You don't like chocolates !," he protested. "Besides I know someone who'll appreciate them more. And show their gratitude," he added with a leer. He started the car and they moved off to get 'back on the job'.

The next morning, Bodie caught Doyle up on the stairs, as they climbed towards Cowley's office. "I think it's working," he whispered in his friend's ear, "She wasn't there last night."

And the next morning he had more to report. "I've got my gloves back," he told Doyle triumphantly. "She said she'd just found them down the back of a fitment. Not true ! Her father and I looked carefully when I first missed them. And her manner was very cold. I feel sorry for her, but it had to be done. She's so young. She'll soon get over it but I'll have to get my paper elsewhere, for father's manner has changed too. He obviously disapproves. Pity, I rather liked him."

During the day, Doyle mused over what had gone on. Although in some ways, acceptance of different relationships had been gradually growing over the years, it was obvious that there were still many who disapproved.

Several weeks later, something happened, which made Doyle wonder about co-incidences.

He and Bodie reported to Cowley's office as usual, to find him looking a little agitated. He had a sheet of paper on the desk before him, and it looked as if he was working out a rota.

"We've got a problem," he stated baldly. "Barton has reported as having spotted a 'tail' on him."

Barton was another of his best men. Almost as good a shot as Doyle, he was more like Bodie in being a man eager for action. He was currently working alone, as his partner and perhaps calming influence, was temporarily laid up with a bad leg injury. He had probably killed more villains than Doyle, and made more enemies too, for his manner was pretty aggressive.

"I'm working out a rota for surveillance," said Cowley briskly. "I've put Hayes on it today. He's good, but I want you two to take the night watch. Finish off your enquiries this morning. Take the afternoon off, and be back in time to follow Barton home."

Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances as they walked down to their cars. This was a change from the rather boring work of the last little while. But it was rather worrying too. Barton was a good agent, but his active style might be regarded by some as provocative. What if whoever was watching him had a more sinister motive ? It would be a severe loss if someone out to 'get him' were to succeed. That was why Cowley had instigated his rules about instant reporting and people set to check.

They followed Cowley's instructions, and were back in time to follow after Barton's grey car, back to the street where he lived. They had read the report put in by Hayes, which said there did seem to be someone watching Barton, but at a distance. It was a man, not anyone he recognised as dubious, but so far he had made no attempt to get very close to his quarry.

But as Bodie and Doyle, each in his own vehicle, had moved through the busy streets of the rush hour, neither had picked up any sign of a car following Barton's. But they couldn't make any assumptions from that !

They took up separate positions, and prepared for a long night's wait. Bodie's car was close to the entrance to the flats. Hayes had kept the space for him, only leaving to let him move into it. Doyle had followed Barton more closely as he neared home, and had parked directly behind him, a little distance from the entrance. They were all in contact by radio-phone, of course.

Barton went into his flat, got himself a meal, and eventually had a shower and went to bed. He had complete confidence in the pair outside. If they saw anything wrong, they would deal with it.

The dark night dragged on. It's one thing missing out on sleep when there is action going on, but quite another sitting in the dark in a comfortable car, with nothing to do but try to stay alert. He and Bodie spoke quietly to each other now and again. That did help.

Several times Doyle felt himself drifting off, and snapping awake with a jerk. It happened again, and suddenly he realised that he'd almost slipped up badly. There was a figure crouched beside Barton's car ! It was bent low and seemed to be pushing something underneath.

He shot out of the car, as the figure straightened up, and took off down the street. Doyle dashed after him, pulling out his radio-phone as he went. With some difficulty as he ran, he called Bodie.

"Bodie," he yelled. "Don't let anyone near Barton's car, and call the bomb squad ! I'm after him, on foot, heading towards Elmore Street."

It was quite a long road, but Doyle was gaining on his quarry, as the fugitive shot round the corner into the next road. Doyle pocketed his radio, and moved his hand to his gun as he ran.

He swung round the corner to see the man not thirty yards away. But he was no longer running. He'd turned and was holding a gun !

Doyle leapt sideways as he saw the flash as the man fired. Fast but not quite quick enough !

He felt the bullet catch his leg just above the knee. His own weapon was now in his hand, and he snapped off a couple of shots as his leg gave under him and he fell to the pavement.

Doyle thought he'd hit his target, but the man didn't fall. Instead he swung round and kept moving, disappearing down a dark alley.

Doyle clutched his leg and struggled to sit up. He pulled out his R.T again, and called Bodie. "I've lost him, down an alley," he said. "I'm hit, in the leg. Send someone to pick me up." Literally, I'm afraid, he said under his breath, as he attempted to get to his feet and couldn't manage it.

"Hang on in there," said Bodie. "I'm getting back-up as fast as I can."

Doyle propped himself up against the wall and waited, pressing the pad of a folded handkerchief hard onto his leg, which was bleeding pretty freely. It seemed an age before he heard the roar of Bodie's car, and saw the light from the headlights swing round the corner, and the big car pull to a halt beside him.

Bodie jumped out and hurried round to bend over his friend. "How are you doing, mate ?," he asked anxiously. "Can you stand ?"

With the help of Bodie's strong arm, Doyle did get to his feet, but couldn't take a step. Bodie reached for the car door handle. He had parked close to the kerb fortunately, and all but lifted his friend into the passenger seat.

"There's a back-up team guarding Barton's car, and yours," he said,

. "They're waiting for the bomb squad, as they can see something under there all right."

Doyle had thought he was right. The man had been up to no good.

"I've been told to leave them to it, and to see to you," Bodie continued. "But we'll go back that way, and drop off your car keys. Then they can move your car out of harm's way, and someone will drop it back to base for you."

That pleased Doyle. He rather liked that particular car.

When Bodie got to St. Richard's Hospital, the one that C.I.5 usually used, he found the car park pretty full, even at that hour. The space he finally found was quite a way from the entrance.

He looked thoughtfully at his friend, still clutching his leg, and grimacing, as if in pain. "You're not going to walk that far," he said doubtfully

"I'll manage it with a bit of help," protested Doyle.

"No way," said Bodie firmly. "You'll do it more harm ! I'll go and get help."

He got out of the car, turned round, and saw his stubborn mate trying to climb out of the passenger seat. He shot round, and in spite of his protests, pushed him back in, locking the door to make him stay. Doyle glared at him angrily as he shot off, but once he was out of sight, he relaxed. To tell the truth, he was feeling so rough, he knew he would never have made it. His leg felt as if it was on fire, and he was beginning to feel rather faint.

Bodie was back in a few moments, with a wheel-chair, and an attendant medic, an older man, who 'tutted' under his breath when he saw the injury. Walk with that indeed !

They were met in the foyer by Dr. Fenton, a personal friend of both of them. He was a perpetually cheerful man, and enjoyed a bit of banter with these two. He knew exactly who they were, and what they did, though he kept that bit of information to himself.

So as he led them towards an examination room, he couldn't resist a bit of teasing. "You again," he said, grinning at Doyle. "You're here so often, we'll have to consider charging you rent."

But his examination of Doyle's leg injury was painstaking and meticulous. His face was totally serious as he gave his verdict. "Nasty one this time, Ray," he said. "I'll have to do a bit of repair work on that tomorrow."

He got a nurse to do a temporary dressing, and arranged for Doyle to be admitted. Although he was disappointed, as he'd hoped to be treated and cleared, Doyle was relieved in a way. He was tired and in pain, and a good night's rest, what was left of it, was a pleasing prospect.

Fenton went off to make the necessary arrangements, and Bodie came into the cubicle where his friend was. "I'm off now, mate," he said. "I'll make my report to Cowley, and I'll be in some time tomorrow to see how you are."

Doyle was barely awake the following morning before he was whisked off to the operating theatre, where Dr. Fenton worked long and hard to repair the nasty injury to his leg.

He woke slowly to considerable pain. A nurse was instantly by his side, as she had been watching for him to stir.

"You need pain-killers ?," she queried anxiously, and Doyle nodded.

"I'll get them for you," she said and hurried off.

Doyle reached for his watch on the side table, and was astonished to see how late it was. Simon must have had to do a lot. That was worrying. He looked down and could see a hump where the supporting cradle was keeping the covers of his leg. Hm, he thought to himself, looks as if this injury is worse than I thought. He accepted the pain-killers, and a drink carefully fed to him by the nurse, and was soon asleep again.

He woke feeling much better, but with a strong need to 'go'. His leg was very much less painful. So he made the effort to sit up, preparatory to getting out of bed. The well-appointed room had a screened-off toilet barely two yards away. Surely he could get that far.

He'd managed to get his good leg over the side and was trying to move the metal cradle from over his injured leg.

A voice from the doorway shouted "Stop !", and there was Dr. Fenton glaring at him. The doctor moved quickly towards him, and got him back into bed, pushing him down flat and tucking the covers tightly back in place.

"What do you think you're doing, young man ?," he said fiercely. "I took hours doing some very delicate repair work on that leg of yours, and you're trying to ruin it all."

Doyle was taken aback. He'd never see his always cheerful friend so angry.

He didn't realise that the man's anger was not directed at him, but was for the nurse who should have been watching for her patient to wake, to prevent such an incident which could have had disastrous consequences.

"Do you want to put an end to your career ?," the doctor demanded.

Doyle gasped at his fierce words. "As bad as that ?," he queried faintly.

Dr. Fenton visibly calmed down, and managed a smile. "Yes, Ray," he said, "I told you it was nasty, and it is that bad. If you put any weight on that leg for the next week, you can kiss your career in C.I 5 good-bye. You'll undo all my good work and I won't be able to repeat it.."

He was quiet for a moment to let this sink into his patient's mind. "But you usually heal pretty well," he went on, "so if you're patient and respond as you should, it will mend completely. But resign yourself to some days of total bed rest."

"I'll be bored to death," complained Doyle, "But I'll do whatever you say, I promise."

"Right," said Fenton, "Now where's that nurse to make you comfortable ?"

There was a slight smile on his face as he left the room. Maybe he had exaggerated the situation rather a lot, but Doyle so hated being laid up, that he'd felt he needed such strong measures to get his co-operation. He normally healed so well, that if he behaved, it would not be quite so bad as he'd said.

So when Bodie strolled in to visit his friend that evening, he found him rather subdued, and downcast.

"I'm stuck for a while," Doyle told him gloomily.

"Yes, I know," said Bodie. "Cowley got Dr. Fenton's report. He wasn't exactly delighted."

"Well I can't help that," snapped Doyle, "neither am I."

"But I have got a bit of news for you," went on Bodie. "You did 'get your man' the other night. Police found him down an alley close by. Barton had a look and identified him as one of a gang of crooks he'd dealt with last year when we were away. The man's brother was killed but this one got away. He must have been laying low since then."

"Should have stayed hidden," said Doyle morosely, "then I wouldn't have been in this state."

Bodie was prowling around, examining the modern room and its facilities with some approval. "It's a nice room," he said, "But a bit dull. There's not even a window with a view. Pity you aren't in a ward. There would be more to see there."

Doyle's face brightened. "Now there's an idea !," he replied, "If I were in a ward, there would be lots going on, and people to talk to. I'm going to ask Simon if it can't be arranged."

Dr. Fenton came in just as Bodie was about to leave, and they put the idea to him together. He looked a little doubtful as he considered the implications.

"It would stop him going 'off his rocker' with boredom," coaxed Bodie persuasively, while Doyle gazed at him pleadingly.

"True," mused Fenton, "I'll think about it."

And as he left to return to his office, he did just that. It wasn't such a bad idea ! C.I.5 casualties usually were put into small single rooms for reasons of security and to preserve their anonymity. But Doyle had enough sense and experience not to let anything untoward slip when talking to strangers. Also, although shooting injuries were inclined to provoke curiosity, he could easily produce a plausible lie. And knowing Doyle's temperament, he knew that the stimulation would help his recovery. So he set to and made some arrangements.

The very next morning, just after breakfast, Doyle found himself moved to a nearby men's surgical ward. His bed was positioned nearest the door, in case he had to be moved suddenly, but that was fine, as it meant he could watch all the comings and goings on the busy ward.

And over the next few days, he got to know some of the patients. Several of the 'walking wounded' helped with the coffee and tea rounds, and were ready to talk freely.

And the efficient young nurses responded well to his cheeky banter as they got on with their many tasks. Dr. Fenton, observing carefully, was pleased to see that all this boosted his patient's morale, and was really helping to speed his recovery. The injured leg was responding well. Soon the specialist could go in to begin a regime of exercises that would soon have him back on his feet again.

Sunday afternoon came round. Doyle wasn't expecting to see Bodie, as he had been in the night before, and had left him some magazines.

But because it was Sunday, there were a lot more visitors to the ward. And sitting up comfortably, against a pile of pillows, Doyle was amusing himself by watching as they came in, and trying to guess which bed they would be going to.

A neat middle-aged woman with a couple of carrier bags came through the door. I bet she's going to Fred, thought Doyle. He'd had quite a chat with Fred, a window-cleaner who'd fallen off his ladder. He watched her progress and saw he'd guessed right.

A dignified elderly lady, carefully escorted by a smart young man, came in next. They'd be for the elderly man in the bed next to him. He had been involved in a road accident, and was badly hurt. He'd had one or two short talks with him. He was a real 'gentleman' of the old school. I wish him well, thought Doyle, but his wife and son were clearly very concerned about him. He saw the young man's worried face, as he drew the curtains round his father's bed, to ensure a little privacy.

Then two teenage girls came past, heading quickly for the far end of the ward. They'll be visiting that youngster who crashed his motor-cycle, I expect.

There was a bit of a lull after that. I expect it's to do with when the next bus arrives, thought Doyle. He picked up one of the car magazines that Bodie had left, and flicked through it.

Suddenly a figure appeared round the drawn curtains next to him, and a girl was standing at the foot of his bed !

For a moment he stared blankly at her. Then recognition swept in. "Jenny," he said, and the doubtful look left her face. She came round and sank into the chair pulled up to the bedside.

"Mr. Doyle," she said earnestly, "Can I talk to you ?."

""Of course," replied Doyle instantly, and she smiled shyly.

Jenny started into a torrent of words of explanation. "I'm here with my friend Mary," she began. "She's come to see her brother Peter. He had a motor-cycle accident. Broke his leg, I think, and other injuries, but he's going to be all right."

She paused for a moment. Then took a deep breath and went on. "Mary has been a very good friend to me. She found out what I had been doing. She talked to me and made me see how foolish I had been."

Her curly head drooped a little and she looked very uncomfortable, but she pushed on. "I'm very sorry that I bothered Mr. Bodie. I was going to apologise next time I saw him, but he hasn't been in for his paper for a while. Will you tell him I'm sorry if I embarrassed him ?"

"He'll be pleased," said Doyle gently, and Jenny's face brightened.

"Mary and Peter have introduced me to the youth club they go to, and I've made a lot of new friends." Noting the slight blush that accompanied these words, Doyle guessed that she was now getting to meet boys of her own age. Good, he thought.

Jenny stood up to go. "I must get back to Mary and Peter, she said.

Some instinct made Doyle detain her. "Before you go," he said, "I think there's something I ought to tell you. I don't like to leave you thinking badly of us." She looked puzzled, but waited to listen.

"What Bodie said about us being 'partners', like that, isn't true. We're a team. We work closely together but that's all."

"So why did he say…?," she queried, then suddenly understood. "it was to put me off you both, wasn't it ?."

Doyle nodded and then grinned "Ruined our reputations, didn't we ? But it worked ! We didn't want you to get into trouble with your father," he added.

He watched the varying expressions flit across her pretty face, as she thought it all through.

"I'm very grateful," she said. "It hurt at the time, but I can see now that you were trying to let me down lightly. I've grown up such a lot recently. Thank you." And with a quick wave, she was gone.

Don't grow up too soon, thought Doyle as he sank back against his pillows. Enjoy your youth and all its pleasures. It goes fast enough.

He relaxed thoughtfully. That was a 'turn up for the book', he mused.

I wonder what Bodie will think when I tell him ?


End file.
